


Silver and Gold

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Klinger reminisces at Christmastime.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Kudos: 8





	Silver and Gold

Charles does not speak when he comes to the doorway of the darkened parlor. Unbidden (he really doesn’t care for carols) he thinks of boughs that do not fade. They are illuminated now with the bubble lights that make Max think of carousels (Charles has gotten him ornaments on just such a theme) and make the former Major think of spaceships. Moving softly, robe askew on his long frame, he picks his way past presents to a beloved form. 

“Whatever are you doing, pet?” 

“Jus’ being happy, Major baby.”

_ Like a kid at Christmastime _ , Charles thinks, pleased that the years they have spent together have done nothing to mar Max’s childlike wonder in so many things - great and small alike. “I wish you always to be happy, but I do not like waking to find the warmth of you gone from my side.” 

Max shifts until he’s on his stomach, head in Charles’ lap. The doctor feels along his neck for raised knots of muscle. “Not a headache?” The migraines that plague his beloved are no respecters of seasons, but they tend to cluster in fall and ease in winter. 

“No. Jus’ wanted to count my blessings. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Charles strokes his dark hair - remembering the very first time he dared to do so and feeling the same thrill- and follows the touch as far down his back as he can reach. “I find that I am bothered very little by sleeplessness if this is to be my reward, but you might dress more warmly, darling, if you are going to lie on the floor.” 

Max nuzzles into his thigh. There was a time when he had been so certain that Charles could never care for his looks - his nose, his cheekbones - and now there is no part of him that is not cherished. “I don’ know how ta explain it, baby, but I knew you’d come find me. Wasn’t worried about finding my robe when I knew you’d be holding me anyway.” 

Charles doesn’t know how to explain it, either. A man of science, he ought not to believe in such mad, mystical, unproven notions as soul mates… and did not - until Max. But if ever sympathy existed between two living forms… 

Max lifts himself a little to read his face. “You think I’m being silly?” 

“Not at all. I knew I would find you here - and this is hardly our only tree.” Maxwell and Honoria take their seasonal decorating to extremes. Charles pretends to fret at the sheer number of boxes of decorations they have accumulated- but he loves the pride in Max’s face when he places the various toppers on the trees. (His delight, he tells himself, has nothing to do with Max’s tendency  _ after  _ this ritual to climb atop him). He also loves the way Max can smell him eating a candy cane from anywhere in the house, appear, and kiss the peppermint flavor from his lips with a sort of seasonal abandon that has led to many desperate and pleasurable acts. 

There’s also the mistletoe. Hung in clusters with golden bells or faux turtle doves, the white berries adorn most doorways. As the holiday grows closer, they also appear in Max’s hair. They get less done than they might in the midst of all that mistletoe- but what they do accomplish is very fun! 

The colored lights glow down on them - gentle, fuzzy - and the smell of cut spruce is strong. “Might I ask you, my dearest one, what blessings you are counting at so late an hour? You are cutting into your ‘slumber party time,’ you know.” 

Ever since they began sharing a bed, Max has treasured climbing in together. Charles had believed this had to do with the excitement of winning him, at first, or an eagerness for touch - but he had learned better. What Maxwell loved was the private world they made of the shared covers. He loved talking together in the dark, stroking Charles’ strong arms to help him drift off, saying prayers that included thanks for the man at his side. He called this nocturnal ritual “slumber party time,” because it conjured the same joy, in him, as those childhood days of late night snacks and giggling in the dark. 

Max snuggles up closer, wanting to feel more of the huge hand resting warmly on his back. “All of ‘em,” he admits softly. “Memories, mostly.”

“Mmm. The year of my Christmas feast. I could barely swallow for replaying the way you said my name in my mind.” 

Max kisses each knuckle of the hand he can reach. “I was so proud of you, baby.”

“I, ah… hmmm. Remind me when we go back to bed to tell me what I dreamed that night.” 

Max’s eyes sparkle - partly because he can guess and partly because he loves learning new things about Charles. “The year I came to find you at that conference in Burlington.”

“You were frozen!” He remembers kissing warmth into icy fingers, dusting snowflakes from long lashes. “A snow prince - at least for the top layers.”

Max grins. Charles makes him feel like a princess all the time - and the clock hasn’t struck midnight on their fairytale yet. “I needed to see your eyes again,” he confides guilelessly - shaking Charles to the core with how much he needs him. 

“You were surrounded by photographs,” he chides gently. “But the truth is, I suppose, that we ought not to travel apart. Remember when you came home early from visiting your cousins?”

Max blushes; he doesn’t get angry often, but hearing Charles with someone else… he’d been furious. Until that someone else turned out to be a recording the Major had made - of  _ him _ ! And if he’d been a little rougher with Charles in the aftermath of his discovery… well, the Major had liked it fine, wearing the marks of his mouth and his fingers like jewels. “Don’t be mean, Major. Tell me a nice one.”

“That was nice, pet. Over and over if I recall.”

Max shoves at him. “You like makin’ me jealous.”

“I like that I can, yes. I am no great beauty like you, dear girl, but when you look at me… I cannot help but see myself through your eyes. It never fails to take my breath, the sweet, incredible way that you cherish me.” 

Max shakes his head. “It’s your pretty mouth that keeps you out of trouble,” he tells him - but they both know he doesn’t mind. “Tell me a nice one.” 

“Say my name,” the Major bargains. 

“Tell me a nice one, Charles.”

“Good girl.”

Max makes a scandalized little sound. “Don’t do that outta nowhere!” 

Charles chuckles low and fond. “One of my favorite memories is coming home to discover you had been listening to my albums, learning the music I loved.”

“You danced with me.”

“Until you sank down at my feet.”  _ Starry-eyed and helpless.  _

“I like being on my knees with you. It’s always a great view. Remember when I snuck into the shower with you?” 

“I do not know how hygenic it is to be cleaned by your tongue, pet, but I find nothing to say against your technique.” This triggers another memory of bathing turned amorous and he laughs. “The year we went hunting and you were convinced my father was playing the Most Dangerous Game with us!!” 

Klinger frowns. “Not exactly my favorite, sir.” He’s still not completely convinced that Charles Winchester senior wouldn’t like to see him removed via a convenient accident. “Except for, you know,”

“All the sex?” They hadn’t hunted a bit - Charles was a terrible shot and Max loved animals - so they’d come up with some creative gunplay of their own - in the woods, in the lodge, in the carriage house, in the cavernous bathroom with its propensity to echo. If Max had ever had any questions regarding whether or not Charles was ashamed of him, that trip laid them to rest. 

“Yeah.” He grins. “Kinda funny to think. When we first got together, didn’t you say something silly about being older and not needing attention so much?”

It is Charles’ turn to blush. He had promised Max he would see to his needs, of course, but he had warned him not to feel insulted if his own needs were less. “You, ah, well… I did not imagine how wonderful  _ your _ particular attentions would be… you… you quite remake me as a younger man, Max.”

The Corporal lifts himself up to catch the edge of his mouth in a kiss. “I keep telling you, baby, you  _ are  _ a young man. You just got used ta keepin’ yourself on a shelf an’ off limits. You got a lotta time ta make up for - an’ I love helpin’ you do it.” His eyes twinkle like the lights on the tree. 

“Mmm. So, why is this the favored tree this year?” 

“‘Cause I decorated it for you and me.”

Charles looks up, up, up the burdened branches, but cannot make out the symbolism. All he can see is, “Silver and gold?”

“Uh-huh. Wanna guess which is which?”

“I would say gold for your golden heart - but if you are thinking in terms of wealth, I should be gold.” He kisses his forehead, “Though you know, well enough, that there is no penny I possess that is not also yours.” 

“Gold for the Winchesters,” Max agrees. “When I met you, you thought that’s all you had to offer anybody - money. All anybody’d value you for. But you’re not that kinda gold, baby. You’re like the Christmas song.” He sings the lines softly, “How do you measure its worth? Just by the pleasure it gives here on Earth.” His eyes shine as he looks up at the man he loves - gentle, infinitely fond. “You make a lotta people real happy, Charles. We’re better because of havin’ you in our lives - lucky we met you. You were worth a whole war to me. And you know what? When I think about it - all that happened over there - all I remember is that I got you to be my friend.”

Charles gathers him to him, holding him tight. “Maxwell, you wonder… it is unkind to make a man cry under his own Christmas tree!” 

“Shhh. Don’t get all worked up, Major baby. ‘S just what’s true - the whole year ‘round. It’s right ta take one night to say it.” 

“Thank you. Might you finish explaining our lovely tree?”

“The silver part? That’s me. I… before you started watching out for me, I didn’t think I was worth very much, either. I didn’t think I was smart or special… or even very good. But you’d look at me in OR when things were at their rottenest - and you’d nod like you were proud I kept going - and it made me want to put on my best stuff just to show you what I could do, and learn all the things you knew… and just be the best I could. And when you kissed me, I knew I had ta be worth  _ something  _ because you’re a Winchester and you wouldn’t settle.” 

“I  _ was _ proud of you, darling, for the fear and blood and pain you bravely faced… for bringing us all joy with your costumes. But you never had to change to live up to me - and Maxwell, you are a Winchester, too, you know.” The word “are” came out “ahh” in that Atlantic accent and Max sighs to hear it, snuggling deeper against him. 

“Well, I’m yours, no matter what - and silver and gold look good tangled up together like this. Like us.” 

“It is a wonderful tree - and this should be a new tradition, I think. A recitation of our blessings, our memories.”  _ With colored lights making patterns in your dark hair.  _ “Might I be permitted to add one more?”

“Sure thing, Major baby.” 

“The year I gave you a diamond necklace.”

Max’s eyes fly open. “Major! Nori will kill you!”

“I shall die a happy man. We’ll put it back before morning.” He finds the velvet box hidden among the others. “Your shirt, pet. These jewels wish to live close to your skin. They have been waiting to do so.” 

Max sheds the garment, eyes chiding him. “It’s so much money, Charles!” 

The Major clasps the unique creation at his throat. It begins with curls of small diamonds but the chain soon becomes too thin to see, making the larger gems appear suspended against his skin like drops of water. Some are filled with white fire and some are gold, but each is flawless. There is no other necklace like it in the world. 

Max looks down, wondering. “It’s like you put bridles on the noses of stars,” he murmured. “And brought ‘em home to me.” When he looks up, there are stars in his eyes. “I gotta find you more presents.”

Charles laughs so loud the ornaments echo his mirth. “I spy one I am most eager to unwrap resting beautifully under these branches.”

“Right here, huh?”

“It is  _ our  _ tree.”

They did continue the tradition, too, of sharing their memories - the blessings they were to one another - each year thereafter. The next year, overhearing them, Honoria called down, musically, to make them glow with blushes, “The y-year two overeager idiots kn-knocked over an entire Christmas tree!”

“That is what insurance is  _ for,  _ Honoria!” Charles yelled back - but they did move, that time, to a spot less likely to threaten the decorations!

The end! 

  
  



End file.
